The Last Potion
by Ricky Roo
Summary: After seven years of never knowing why Severus Snape wouldn't return her passionate feelings for him, a hopeless Hogwarts graduate plans to end her pain with the Last Potion... until he appears before her. Please RR
1. Default Chapter

Dear Professor,

I suppose I had been warned about your ruthless behaviour. The older students on the Hogwarts Express had told me all about you. They called you a monster. They told me you hated Muggles, children and benevolence. I was once all of that. Born to Muggle parents, a girl of eleven years and a friend to all. Perhaps that's why I didn't believe a Hogwarts professor could be all that they had described. However, it didn't matter then what you were like. I didn't know you and I certainly didn't know how much my heart would cry out for you later that year.

If I had only heard one simple word spoken from your lips before that fateful September night, my life would be so much different than it is today. I'd have begged the Sorting Hat to place me where you'd be likely to appreciate me. It would have been me there sitting at that table with the rest of the Slytherin House once again celebrating the triumph we'd achieved over the last school year. If I'd been sorted into the Slytherin House, then perhaps it would be me you were looking at when your hands clapped together in high approval and that proud grin appeared on your face. Every year since I came to Hogwarts they've won the House Cup. It's no surprise. I can easily understand how badly they work throughout the year to make you proud. I've worked so hard over the years to impress you, but not because it was a House Pointed I sought after, it was simply your attention and admiration I wanted - if only for a moment. You never once gave Ravenclaw a point for my accomplishments nor did you once give me the satisfaction of a simple rewarding acknowledgement.

Instead you shunned me like a foul, rotten scoundrel. Each time we passed each other in the corridors my heart would pound and I would smile as I greeted you. In return you only scowled at me as if I were a foul stench caught between your lips and nose. Little did you know how much it hurt me to see you stare so coldly at me when all I wanted was to hear you whisper my name. Do you really even know my name? You haven't spoken it since the roll call at the beginning of my very first Potions class. The last thing I expected to happen when I heard you speak my name was to fall in love with you. I suppose I didn't that very day, but soon afterward. You first enchanted me with that faint velvet whisper that is your voice, then your effortless ability to captivate my full attention struck my heart with fire… and then I fell in love with you. For seven years I waited patiently to hear you speak my name again. You never did.

If I had known then, during my very first Potions class, that I would never again hear my name slip off your tongue I probably never would have allowed myself to fall in love with you. I was a fool to let my heart slip away so easily. You've done nothing to earn my love. You didn't ask for me to love you and I certainly didn't ask to fall in love with you. I just did.

If I had the power to make it all untrue, I would. But I've waited too long. For seven years I waited hoping that one day you'd see me the way I wanted you to see me. I'm such a fool!

Seven short years went by and not once did you ever look at me as I had devotedly stared at you. How could you not have seen the hunger in my eyes each time I looked at you? It was so obvious I loved you. I wish I didn't, but it's too late now. I'm in love with you and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

Tomorrow I leave Hogwarts probably to never see you again. You'll never know how much I loved you or how much you hurt me by not knowing it. Summer will along and you'll forget I even existed. There are no memories of you and I to remember me by. I was only the quiet little Ravenclaw who sat in the middle of the Potions classroom and did nothing more than the work you gave me. I didn't cause trouble, I didn't foul up my recipes and I certainly didn't talk about you behind your back like the rest of my classmates. On occasion, I even heard your own House speaking vulgarly of you.

If you only knew who was truly being faithful to you, things would be so much different. Instead of leaving tomorrow with nothing more to remember you by than your marking on my work, I would leave knowing that you meant it when you shook my hand and congratulated me for all the wonderful work I had done for you. But your hand will never touch mine. I'll never again look into your deep dark eyes and see the emptiness I so much wanted to fill. You'll never look into my eyes again and see the adoring love and passion I feel for you.

I leave you tonight Professor Severus Snape for a life without you that will be far less painful than the life I've lived with you. 

Goodbye, my Love.


	2. His Last Words

I could barely see anymore.

It was dark outside and I could hear the werewolves howling from within the Dark Forest. They were miles away, but I still wished one of them would find me. That would save me from having to do this.

However, I knew that the poison would be far less painful. It was one of the very last potions he ever taught us to make. It was called _Eau Noir_. Known for its immaculate ability to take life away without a morsel of pain, the _Eau Noir_ had become the most common method of suicide among witches and wizards in the last century. I wasn't going to let that statistic die. Instead I was going to use it so that I could finally put an end to all the pain before it could really begin. I can't leave this place knowing he doesn't love me nor even care what happens to me.

I'd kept the tiny vile hidden in my robes after the three part Potions final. We'd each made two doses of _Eau Noir_. One was to kill a gnome, and the second was to turn the poison into a harmless vapour. Powdered unicorn blood instantly turned the _Eau Noir_ into a non-toxic cloud of smoke. The third part was to concoct an antidote that we used to spare the lives of the gnomes.

After using the _Eau Noir_ to kill the gnomes Professor Snape knew the potions would all become ineffective once he instructed the class to add the powdered unicorn blood. What he didn't know was that I never added the powder when he had asked. Ironically, that was the first time I ever disobeyed him.

I looked at the tiny vile in the palm of my hand and thought about the last seven years of my life. I'd spent all of those years staying up late at night to study Potions so that I could be the best in his class… and I was. That got me nowhere.

I ate meal after meal in the Great Hall watching him and hoping that his eye would one day catch mine. It never did.

I cheered for Slytherin at all of the Quidditch games so that he would know I wanted his team to win. I don't think he ever noticed.

It doesn't matter anymore now anyway. Soon the pain will be gone. Soon I'll no longer be in love with him.

I pulled the cork from the glass vile and held it in front of me where I could see it. There was just enough left to do the job. It would be quick and it would be painless. There was nothing to be afraid of.

My hand slowly crept up to my mouth. I could feel the cold glass on my lips. My body was shaking and my heart was pounding. This was a lot harder than I thought it would be.

"Come on," I told myself. "Just do it."

Once again I reached the mouth of the vile to my lips and closed my eyes before tipping my head back. The liquid just touched my lips when I heard the sweeping sound coming towards me.

My eyes opened in a flash and I looked everywhere around me. Coming from the castle was a tall hooded figure. Long, quick footsteps brought him closer to me. I recognized his panther-like walk immediately.

It was him!

A gasp escaped from my mouth and I nearly dropped the vile. I squeezed my hand around the tiny glass bottle to keep from letting that happen again. I was so close. I couldn't let anything stop me now.

"Miss Chamberlain?" I heard him speak in a firm velvety voice.

My name! He said my name!

I could hear the irritation in his voice, but hearing him say the words I've been dying to hear for seven years nearly melted my heart. It sounded like magic to my ears. A pity he was one day too late, just as he was one day too late in the beginning.

"Miss Chamberlain, just what the hell do you think you're doing?" He walked up to me and stopped just a couple of feet before me and tore the hood of his cape off his head.

I looked down the long dark tunnel of his black eyes and searched desperately for the compassion I longed for. There was none. Only fury and anger.

"It's the only way I'll ever escape you," I said and held the vile out where he could see it.

He looked at me for a moment longer before his face twisted up into a scowl. "I beg your pardon," he said cruelly.

"You heard what I said. I've come out here to end this. I can't leave you any other way." I felt a warm drip of moisture run down my cheek. He watched the tears fall down my face and then looked back up into my eyes.

For the first time in my life I let him see me cry.

There had been plenty of times before I could have cried in front of him. As perfect as I was in his class he always found a way to put me down or crush my heart. There were times I wanted to cry, but tears were a sign of weakness. He had no weakness. I didn't want to have weakness. I wanted to be like him. More than that, I wanted to be with him.

"Don't be a fool, girl." His fingers moved slowly about at his sides. His long black cloak covered most of his body, but I could see that he was trembling. He'd probably never been face to face with a suicidal graduate before. "Give me the vile and get back inside the castle before-"

"I've been a fool for seven years," I interrupted him. "A fool for allowing my heart to surrender to you. I loved you all along and you never saw it."

"I did see it," he confided. "I knew very well what you were thinking when you looked at me and that is precisely why I never gave you the satisfaction you sought after. You are a fool if you believed for one moment that I'd ever put my hands on a student."

I think it was that very moment that my heart stopped beating and began to break. The cold cruel look in his eyes pierced through me like daggers. I knew then that the last seven years of my life had all been lived in vain. He didn't disregard me because he was ignorant. He refused me because he never wanted anything to do with me. My love for him drove him away.

How could he be so cruel? I lived every day for him. Clearly I was wasting my time. He's heartless.

The half empty vile slipped out of my hand and shattered overtop the rocks beside me. I wiped the tears from my cheeks and looked up at him with a smile on my face. I don't know why I was smiling. I just loved him so much. I hated him and I loved him all at once.

"I'm not a student anymore," I told him. I don't know why I said it, but it was true. I'd graduated from Hogwarts hours ago. It wouldn't make a difference though. He'd still never love me like I loved him. He was Severus Snape after all. 

I could still see him standing there in front of me. He was becoming nothing more than a blur, but he was still there watching me, studying me, and then I could remember him catching me.

Falling into his arms I felt the warmth of his body embracing me. His large hands wrapped around my back and under my knees. I pressed my head into his chest and tried to reach my hands up to touch his face.

My arms wouldn't move. They hung lifelessly at my sides and disregarded all desires I had for them to reach up to him.

I couldn't see him anymore. I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer.

I could hear the fierce pounding of his heart against my ear. His warm breath blew gently over my face and calmed my fears. Then the last words I ever heard him speak to me rang in my ears until my heart could no longer battle the poison in my veins.

"You foolish girl," was all he said.

My body could no longer fight against the _Eau Noir_. Such a tiny sip. If he'd only stopped me a second earlier I'd have lived to know what happened next.


	3. Awakening

Well, I wasn't planning on expanding this fic, but since you've all been asking and pleading for more, I've decided to throw a few more chapters in. I'm open to ideas, so if you've got any let me know. Tell me what you want to happen and I'll do my best to put it down on paper! Thanks for readin'!

Awakening

It was quite dim where I awoke. Nonetheless, the clout of the candlelight seemed to burn my eyes the moment I opened them. I had to squeeze my eyes shut again to keep from blinding myself.

"Easy now young lady, take your time."

The voice sounded in my ear like an angel whispering from Heaven. So distant, yet right by my side she spoke. I could feel her hands enclosed around my fingers. She felt warm.

I felt so cold. My lips were numb and my lungs felt like they'd both collapsed. What a dreadful feeling. Why do I feel so… alive? I thought for sure I'd died in his arms.

Oh Merlin!

My eyes popped wide open the instant I remembered what had happened. I'd died in his arms.

I gasped loudly and sucked in a deep breath of air as I tried to sit up. "Oooh!" My head hurt so badly and my stomach churned. I couldn't hold myself up. After I'd collapsed back onto the bed I heard her voice again.

"Easy. Easy! You've had a long night Miss Chamberlain; it won't do you any good to burn the midnight oil so soon. Lay back and relax. You're perfectly safe now."

I recognized her voice. It was Madam Pomfrey. That means I must be in the Hospital Wing. I'm still at Hogwarts. I'm still near my love.

I didn't want to, but the profusion of potions surging through my body deprived me of the ability to get up again. My eyes rolled around behind closed eyelids. I could feel Madam Pomfrey brushing her hand across my dampened forehead.

I did try to relax as she had asked of me. Lying on my back with my head turned to the side I tried to remain perfectly still. I could feel my own breath blowing across my shoulder. Madam Pomfrey combed her fingers through my hair and curled her fingertips around behind my ear.

"That's much better, dear. Now when you're ready you can open your eyes." I could feel her pulling her hands away from me. Then doing as I was told I gently let my eyes flicker open.

At first everything was a blur. I blinked until the nurse came into focus. By the look on her face I could tell that she felt far more cross than her voice had suggested.

"Welcome back Miss Chamberlain," she said irritably. "We almost thought we'd lost you. You're quite lucky Professor Snape had a fresh antidote on hand."

I put my arms behind me on the pillow and sat up on my elbows. Madam Pomfrey stood up and began pulling the curtains around my bed. There was no one else in the Hospital Wing.

"Professor Snape," I repeated after realizing that I was no longer anywhere near his arms. "Where has he gone?" I asked in an awfully demanding voice.

Madam Pomfrey gave me a severe look that made my tone pale in comparison. "Back to his office I would imagine," she said. "He slipped out of here shortly after he'd brought you in."

"Did he say anything?" I asked eagerly. I watched her carefully as she began refolding some unused towels.

"No," she answered blatantly. "At least not to me. He spoke to the Headmaster after I'd taken you into my care. I imagine he'll be here shortly to speak with you."

"He will?" I asked excitedly and sat straight up in my bed.

Madam Pomfrey gave me one more severe look and sighed irritably. "Yes. _Professor Dumbledore_ always checks in on my patients once they regain consciousness."

"Professor Dumbledore?" I wrinkled my face in disappointment and felt my heart sink deep into my chest. "Perhaps you misunderstood me. Who I meant was Professor Sn-"

"I know very well who you meant, dear." Madam Pomfrey sat back down on the edge of the bed and looked deep into my eyes. She wasn't a very mean woman and she was quite small in size, but the look she had in her eyes alone was awfully intimidating. "Professor Snape is in no way responsible for you. He's neither the Headmaster nor your Head of House. You'll not be seeing him before you leave tomorrow."

I drew my eyebrows together in anger. Who did she think she was telling me whether I would see him or not? "He saved my life," I told her. "Perhaps it would be prudent if I first thank him in person before leaving. Or, at least to let me say good-bye."

Madam Pomfrey stood up again. "You needn't make excuses in front of me, Miss Chamberlain," she said. "It is Professor Snape's wish that you do not see him again."

Without even feeling it coming on, I felt a tear drip down my cheek and spill onto the ivory blankets rumpled at my waist. Madam Pomfrey saw my teardrops and sighed sympathetically. "I'm sorry my dear, but it's for your own good."

She looked over at the large oak doors at the entrance to the Hospital Wing and hesitated before turning around and heading into the office at the back. I looked the other way and saw another familiar, sorrow face standing between those heavy oak doors.

It was Professor Dumbledore.

He saw me crying in the bed and silently stepped over to me. He raised his hand once he reached the side of my bed and made a calming motion. "I'm very pleased to have you back with us Miss Chamberlain. You gave us all a nasty fright."

I rolled my eyes and turned my head away from him. More tears spilled down my cheeks when I squeezed my eyes shut tight. "You should have just let me die," I heard myself whimper. I felt the pain and heartache more now than ever before. I had seen the seriousness in his eyes assured me that Madam Pomfrey spoke no word of a lie.

The man I've loved for the last seven years never wanted to see me again.

I may as well be dead.

"Elizabeth, look at me." Professor Dumbledore spoke so softly I almost didn't hear him. "Please, look at me." His fingertips touched beneath my chin and gently turned my head his way.

I opened my eyes and willingly looked past those crescent glasses into his baby blue eyes. His eyes were far friendlier than those black tunnels I tried so hard to lure myself into over the years, but the soul deep desire still lingered behind in those deep, dark tunnels.

"Why won't he see me, Professor?" I asked him.

Professor Dumbledore took his hand away from my face and cupped his hands in his lap. "Exposure to lust and infatuation will only increase the heartache and pain you feel, Elizabeth. Your wounds will not properly mend unless you're given the time you need to heal your heart. You won't be able to do this unless you leave him behind along with your memories of Hogwarts. Believe me my darling, Severus won't give you the satisfaction your heart seeks… at least not yet."

"Not yet?" I repeated immediately. "Do you mean to say that-"

Professor Dumbledore raised a hand and silenced me before I had the chance to continue. "Don't trouble yourself Elizabeth, once you've had a taste of what the future has to offer you, you'll have forgotten all about him and you'll find love again. By the time you're his age now, you'll both understand why I cannot allow you to bid him farewell this evening."


	4. A Letter From Hogwarts

All right… here's the scoop. I don't know exactly what JK has in mind, but for the sake of this particular fan fiction, this is the history of Severus Snape: He started teaching at Hogwarts when he was 20. Elizabeth's first year was his second year teaching.

After the following chapter I have absolutely no idea where I'm going to go with this story, so if you have any ideas please let me know. Thanks! And happy reading!!!

A Letter From Hogwarts

Dear Ms Sullivan,

I hope that this letter finds you well. It has been far too long since I've last heard news from you. I myself have been quite splendid. Another year at Hogwarts has come and gone and it will soon be time for a fresh term.

Before another school year can get underway I would like to invite you back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. On August 21st you and each of your fellow graduates will be invited to attend the Hogwarts Ten Year Class Reunion.

A private room will be provided for you as will each of your meals. You are more than welcome to bring a guest along with you.

Please respond by owl post by August 18th. I, along with the professors and staff at Hogwarts look forward to seeing you this summer.

Yours truly,

Albus Dumbledore

Headmaster


	5. Back Again

It was August 21st.

I cowered when I suddenly remembered just how big Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry really was. After a few years of growing up, things were supposed to seem smaller, not larger. The castle of Hogwarts was certainly an exception.

I stood in front of the great oak doors with its dark, massive shadow spilling over me like a tidal wave. I felt cold. This isn't how people were supposed to feel upon arriving at Hogwarts. Hogwarts was a place of warmth and friendliness. It was home to tomorrow's witches and wizards. It used to me my home.

So why was I standing there with my knees shaking and my arms wrapped so tight around my tiny suitcase that I could feel it pressing hard against my chest? Why did I suddenly feel like the air had dropped twenty degrees?

Because of _him_.

Professor Severus Snape. Master of Potions and loyal Head of Slytherin.

_He's_ the reason I stand here alone, terrified to take another step further. I'm alone because the man I loved and married has abandoned me and I'm terrified that my feelings for that stubborn bastard of a wizard Severus Snape will all return upon seeing him again.

I left Hogwarts the day after my graduation promising myself I'd never return. I made a solemn swear to myself that I'd not let him hurt me again. So why am I here?

Simple, I guess.

Ten years have gone by and I've realized how foolish I was to let one man control my destiny. Why should I let a man who didn't even have the decency to call me by my first name scare me away from what was once my home?

Professor Dumbledore was right. Out of sight, out of mind. It took two years, but I fell out of love with that sallow, greasy git. I fell out of love with him and in love with another selfish bastard who became my dictatorial husband less than a year after that.

Daemon Sullivan.

Son of the notorious Gabriel Sullivan.

Death Eater.

What a bastard he was. I'd have been better off staying in love with the greasy git. Professor Snape refused to reciprocate my avid feelings for him. He never loved me like I loved him. Neither did Daemon. The difference was Professor Snape told me flat out that he didn't want me. End of story.

Daemon. He pretended to love me. He used me, abused me, _and then_ flat out told me he didn't want me. Those heartaches I suffered after leaving Hogwarts paled in comparison to the wounds Daemon inflicted on my heart. We were going to have a child together. Perhaps it's for the best that our child never stood a chance. What sort of life would I be giving my child knowing that its father loved the Dark Lord more than he love us?

There was only one place to go to harbour from being drawn into that sort of life. One place that was completely safe. One place, and it stood right in front of me. Hogwarts.

My friends and my professors were all right on the other side of the door. They were all waiting for me. Especially Headmaster Dumbledore. He kept in touch with me and sent me many letters of warmth and encouragement. If not to reunite with my fellow graduates, I was here today to once again see him.

To hell with that sordid brute who calls himself Severus Snape. I'll not let his memory destroy me again.


	6. Down in the Dungeons

Down in the Dungeons

It was lucky that I decided not to turn my back on the whole thing. For the first time in years I enjoyed myself considerably. Being reunited with old friends and reacquainting myself with the vast castle of Hogwarts brought back many memories. Those memories were far warmer than I remembered. I did enjoy my years at Hogwarts very much. I enjoyed my friends and I enjoyed my classes.

Perhaps those cold, black eyes would have stirred up some dark memories… if I'd seen them. But I didn't. In three days I never once saw a trace of the Potions Master. Now, whether or not Severus Snape was still at Hogwarts, I didn't know. Nobody told me, and I didn't ask.

Of course, his name did come up here and there in the midst of a conversation among classmates, but no one knew for certain. We talked plenty about our school memories and how much we'd all like to do it all again. None of my friends knew how I felt about our wicked, sardonic Potions Master, but I thought to myself that if I'd had the chance to do those seven years over again, I'd not have fallen so deeply in love with him. I'd have not taken to any feelings for him at all… except perhaps those bitter feelings most everyone had for him.

Sometimes while walking alone through the corridors I could have sworn I felt his presence still lurking around me, but I excused such foolishness for childhood memories. As students, it seemed that when we were roaming the corridors past curfew it was always Professor Snape who discovered us. Little did my fellow Ravenclaws know how much I loved being caught by this particular night prowler. I loved seeing him at any opportunity, even if it led to trouble and a detention. Professor Flitwick was always easy on us. His detentions usually consisted of petty chores within our Common Room. They were relatively effortless chores, as the House Elves did a superb job of keeping our Common Room tidy as it was.

A part of me misses that cold chill that runs up and down my spine each time I pass the dark passage leading down to where we had our Potions class. Twice now I've walked by, half wanting to take a peek inside my old classroom and half wanting to just walk on by.

It was nearly time to leave now. I'll have one more chance to explore the dungeons. After dinner I'll be on my way back home to London. Back to Rubens Winikus where I'll continue to concoct the most difficult of potions known to the wizarding world. Back to where I'll be alone, longing for the love I once thought I had.

I was on my way to the Great Hall when I stopped and stood at the top of the staircase leading down to the depths of the dungeons. I could feel a draft of cold air already. Potions class was always so cold. Even now in the heat of summer I could feel goosebumps forming on my bare legs.

I lived in a Muggle neighbourhood, so naturally my wardrobe consisted primarily of Muggle clothing. This weekend I saw that I wasn't the only one who packed Muggle clothing. In my opinion, the fashions of the Muggle world were far more trendy and stylish. Sometimes I felt like I would suffocate in my robes. Today I wore a soft, silky little black cross-top shirt with short sleeves and the cosiest denim skirt I own. It came down just above my knees and had a little slit in the back. The heels of my open-toed black sandals echoed as I took one step at a time down towards the dungeons.

My hand clung tightly to the railing as if a part of me were trying to hold the rest of me back. Perhaps that was the shrewd, wiser half of me. My heart hammered within my chest so hard I could hear it pounding against my eardrums. The goosebumps on my skin spread and swelled so much it hurt.

This isn't right. What is it that my body is dreading so dearly? Is it the memories I left buried within these dungeon walls? Is it for fear that my schoolgirl crush will be resurrected upon setting my eyes on my old Potions classroom? Or, is it the remote possibility that _he's_ down here - right now?

Impossible!  If he were still here somebody would have said _something_!

I should just turn around. Clearly I'm not as prepared as I thought I was for this little endeavour. I thought Severus Snape no longer meant anything to me, but if the mere memory of him is causing me to crumble like this, there are obviously still some issues I have yet to ravage.

I had just turned around and hopped up a couple of steps when a faint noise caught my attention. I stopped, froze, and listened carefully. I thought I'd heard someone sniff.

So what? Among other things, the castle is chockfull of sniffling, sneezing, talking portraits. It could have been anything… or anyone.

I stepped quietly up a few more stairs and kept my ears on alert.

Just then, a horrible sound struck my ears. A high-pitched squeal much like a heavy wooden chair being pushed across the stone floor.

There is someone down there!

Before I knew what I was doing, my feet started carrying me down the staircase and towards the open door of my old Potions classroom. My heart was no longer thundering and the cold had ceased to bother me. In fact, I felt quite eager to see who else had gathered the courage to revisit the Potions classroom.

After all, many of my fellow graduates were Slytherins. Perhaps one, or some of them had come down to see the classroom as well.

I stopped at the door and looked inside. At first I thought it was empty, but then my eye caught a peculiar figure in the furthest, darkest corner of the classroom. Glossy black hair, billowing black robes…

Just then, my heart did stop. It was a Hogwarts graduate – and a Slytherin, too. Not from my graduating class though.

Oh Merlin! It's _him_!


	7. The Potions Master

The Potions Master

            I stood silently in the doorway for a moment, just long enough to gather myself back together. I took one long, deep breath and closed my eyes before releasing the iron grip I had around the doorframe and walked into the Potions classroom.

There was simply no doubt that he could hear my heels clicking against the stone floor, but he didn't turn around to see me. He didn't even budge.

Typical.

He made no welcoming gesture nor even gave me a crude, sarcastic salutation. I began to wonder if he'd gone deaf over the last decade.

I was standing right behind him when I heard him sniff again. He cleared his throat and then brushed his finger under his nose before returning his hands to his slicing and dicing.

"I see you've got yourself a cold," I said. "It's no wonder. The dungeons always were ten times cooler than the rest of the castle."

I could see him turning to look at me in the corner of his eye. He brushed his sloppy hair out of his face and then returned to his work. "If you'd bother to cover more than the essentials you would find this atmosphere far more agreeable."

"It's summer time Professor Snape," I reminded him. "If you'd bothered to join the rest of us once in a while, you may have noticed."

"I'm well aware of what season it is," he spat at me. "I'm quite busy this time of year. I've got a lot to prepare for when the students arrive and you'll not be seeing me up above until my work is finished."

"I see," I said. "Well, should you change your mind, you may also notice that you're the only one still dressed from chin to toe around here."

"And nothing the weather does will change that," he told me just before he added his finely chopped Aconite to the cauldron in front of him. "You'll not see me in anything less than full robes."

"Hmm," I murmured in agreement. "Yes, I can't imagine anyone will be able to take you seriously again after seeing your pasty white legs sticking out through a pair of summer shorts."

Quite suddenly, Professor Snape stood up from his wooden stool and spun around to face me. His cold, empty black eyes looked me up and down before he towered right in front of me and glared deep into my eyes. At that very moment I remembered how terrified I really was of him. I could now recall that it was this sort of adrenaline that I sought after. His effortless ability to drive fear into us as students was unmatched… and incredibly enticing.

It was his power, his intimidation, and his sleek black figure that excited me and attracted me to him. He excited me even now as he loomed over me, his brow curving down in disapproval and his hands fumbling at his sides as if he were trying to keep himself from drawing his wand out to turn me into something foul and disgusting.

Oh Merlin! He's never stood this close to me before! I could feel his soft, warm breath upon my face. His sweet, spicy aroma lingered in the air around me. Merlin, he smells so good! If I could _only_ reach up and touch him. His lips are only inches away from mine… I could even kiss him.

Oh sweet mother of Merlin! What am I _saying_? What I can only call a 'look of disgust' appeared on my face once I realized what sort of fantasy my imagination was cooking up. I _don't_ want to kiss _him_! Professor Snape is nothing more than a cunning, old slimeball.

Before my imagination could run off without me, I closed my eyes and turned my head away from him and backed away a little.

"That is just about to boil over," I said and pointed at his cauldron. I peeked at him before opening my eyes and stood up straight as he began to slither away from me.

He smoothly glided back into his stool and gently began stirring the thick mixture within the cauldron. Once he pulled his stool closer to the table I heard him clear his throat again.

"Is there something I can do for you, young lady?" he asked quietly. "Or have you just come down to look over my attire?"

Once my heart settled back down I took a moment to look around the all too familiar Potions classroom. "There's nothing you can do for me," I told him. "I just came down to look around, that's all."

"Very well then," he said. "Have your look and then be on your way. As I already told you, I'm quite busy."

"Perhaps I could help you." The words slipped out of my mouth before I could even think about what sort of an offer I had just made. I didn't want to spend another second down here… alone… with him!

I wanted to go back upstairs, enjoy a hot meal, see my friends one last time and go home… not spend any more time here with… _him_.

Oh Merlin… the memories. Ten years back I would have done anything to commit my precious time to him.

"You know, that would be far easier if you turned the temperature down before adding the -"

"I don't want your help!" he scolded before I even had a chance to finish what I was saying. "I'm managing just fine."

"Yes, of course you are," I agreed. "I just thought I'd let you know that last spring I read in Witch Weekly that adding Asphodel at a lower temperature won't clump in the brew."

"_My_ concoctions don't clump," Professor Snape hissed at me just before he sprinkled the Asphodel into the cauldron.

I leaned myself up against one of the desks and watched from a short distance as his mixture began to bubble violently and I could have sworn I heard him cuss shortly before he began stirring and stabbing at the mixture with his spoon.

Smiling in appreciation, I couldn't help but let out a little chuckle. "There's a first time for everything I suppose."

Professor Snape set the cauldron at a lower temperature and got his concoction under control before turning around to give me another one of his sinister glares. "You don't even know what this is," he assumed. "You're distracting me! I suggest you leave before I have time to silence you myself."

"I studied Advanced Potions for six years. I know very well what this particular potion is," I told him as I pointed at the cauldron. "In fact, the Wolfsbane Potion is one of the simpler potions we brew at Rubens Winikus. I must have done it a hundred times already."

Professor Snape took an old rag and began dotting along the edges of the cauldron to sop up what had begun to boil over. He angrily slapped the rag onto the counter and placed his hand on his hip as he turned to me again.

"_You_ work for Rubens Winikus?" he asked with steep doubt lingering in his voice.

"Yes," I assured. "Like I said, I studied Advanced Potions for six years before I started working for RWC."

"Very well," he accepted. "Where is it that you studied?" he asked dryly.

"FIAMA," I told him. "The French International Academy-"

"I know what it stands for!" he interrupted and batted his hand at me.

"- of Modern Alchemy," I finished anyway.

Professor Snape was obviously as irritable as ever. Professor Dumbledore was the only one who seemed to be able to carry out a full conversation with the Potions Master. Perhaps that was because he was the only one Professor Snape would never speak back to or treat like vermin. Everyone else was easily dismissible.

"You must have had an outstanding school record to be accepted by FIAMA," the professor stated. "I understand only two hundred and fifty applicants from around the globe are accepted per year."

I nodded in agreement even though he wasn't facing me anymore. I crossed my arms and bit down on my lip as I do when my nerves wind up on me. "You understand correctly. Two hundred and fifty students are accepted per year. Barely half of those two fifty see it to the end of the fourth year, and half of those students remain for the additional two years. I graduated along with sixty-three of my original classmates."

Professor Snape tried his damnedest to hide his intrigue, but I could see the fascination glittering in his eyes. I would have bet my bottom Knut that even he doesn't have the knowledge of alchemy that I do. And the funny thing is… it was my lovesick fascination with him that inspired me to see it to the end of year six at FIAMA. After seven years of aspiring to be the best in his class, I managed to be the best in almost all the world. I graduated near the top of those sixty-three students.

"Quite impressive," Professor Snape hissed. "Well then, I can only imagine that the work Rubens Winikus has is enough to keep you quite occupied. Surly you don't have the time to sit around here with me concocting silly little potions for knucklehead students like mine."

He looked at me once again and seemed to be admiring my sense of Muggle fashion more than he'd care to admit. The corner of my lips turned up into a small, devious smile as I turned away from him and walked towards the classroom door. "Perhaps you're right," I said and looked back at him one last time. "Good night, Professor Snape."

"Good night, Miss…"

"Sullivan," I told him. "Ms. Liza Sullivan."


	8. Late For Dinner

Late For Dinner

I'd nearly forgotten about Professor Snape after I'd climbed back up the eerie staircase for the last time. I didn't realize I had tears swelling in the corners of my eyes until I blinked and set them free. Why was I crying?

I certainly didn't feel upset… or sad… or heartbroken as I had the last time I'd spoken to him. My feelings for him have changed over the years. No… they haven't changed… they've vanished completely!

I quickly wiped my face dry and hurried back to the Great Hall to enjoy the Farewell Feast with my fellow graduates. There's no use dwelling over him. He means nothing to me anymore. Nothing at all.

Within the Great Hall the long tables had been rearranged from what I remember. In their place there were several smaller tables, which were quite fitting for our small gathering. We were no longer divided by our Houses but rather mixed and mingled all together. Gryffindors and Slytherins shared tables, as did former Quidditch rivals.

There were three others at my table this evening. To my left was my best friend Aribeth McKenzie who was now married with two daughters, and to my right was Rodney Shore, a Beater for the _Welsh Wonders_. Across from me was the very man I used to despise dearly when I was a student. His name was Morton Davis. Slytherin. He always used to steal my homework and peek over my shoulder during exams. I grew tired of his habit near the end of our sixth year and finally decided to put a stop to it all. During our Arithmancy final I put a spell on my parchment to display all of the wrong answers, and then after he'd stolen my answers, I'd changed them to all of the correct answers. It wasn't until this weekend that he'd forgiven me.

"Honestly, I don't think I've had a better meal since the last time I was here," Rodney told us before he'd taken an unusually big bite from his drumstick. I watched him chew his chicken and giggled at him.

"Perhaps if you'd found time to marry after all these years you'd have a lovely wife to cook you such prestigious meals," Aribeth said. She was leisurely working on dipping her mashed potatoes into her gravy, coating it perfectly before lifting her fork to her mouth.

Out of the four of us, Rodney was the only one who'd not wed in the past ten years. I didn't say it out loud, but I couldn't help but think how lucky he was. Marrying Daemon Sullivan was the biggest mistake of my life and apparently Morton's luck hadn't turned out in his best interest either. However, I'm certain his wife was a dear in comparison to Daemon. He was one of _them_. Everyone knew it, too. Everyone here had heard of the notorious Sullivan's and that's why no one had bothered to ask me anything about him. It was a subject best left alone. Nobody wanted to ruin a perfectly enjoyable conversation by bringing up Death Eaters.

"I'm sure going to miss this place," Aribeth said after dotting her lips with a napkin. "I'm so glad my mum was able to look after the girls this weekend. She lives in Stockholm now."

I was in the middle of sipping my pumpkin juice when Morton raised his fork to his mouth and stopped frozen just before the potatoes touched his lips. He looked right behind me and stared curiously.

"Well, I don't believe it," he said in a soft whisper.

"What?" I asked and set my pumpkin juice down before picking up my fork.

"Snape," he said. My fork slipped out of my hand and clattered as if fell against my plate. "That old bat's still here."

I cranked my neck around to see for myself. Sure enough, Professor Snape had made his first appearance at the Head table. He pulled a chair out next to Professor McGonagall.

Before sitting down he looked my way. I could feel his eyes right on me. His head nodded in acknowledgement and then he pulled his chair in and then glanced over at Minerva McGonagall as she began to speak to him. He had very little to say in comparison to Professor McGonagall. His mouth open barely enough to punctuate the words spilling out of her mouth. He never was much of a conversationalist. When he did have something to say, it was usually in a calm, eerie whisper. However, there have been times – _plenty_ of times where I've heard him raise his voice.

He never looked back at me again. Instead, he casually picked up his glass and began swirling the orange liquid around in small circles. He nodded once at the Transfigurations professor before touching the glass to his lips and gently tipping it up.

I could see his throat flex as he swallowed. Then he set his glass down and muttered something short to McGonagall. His hand was still encircling the clear, slender glass. His fingers massaged gently along the outside and his thumb slipped up and began churning softly over the mouth.

My mouth and lips felt dry. I could feel my body beginning to sweat. The summer sun beat through the glass windows of the Great Hall just behind the Head Table.

I can't imagine how Professor Snape finds such dark, heavy clothing so comfortable this time of year and I don't believe he'd stand a chance of losing his dignity should he bare a touch more skin. Merlin knows he's sweating like a pig underneath that hideous costume.

"Are you all right, Lizzie?" I heard Aribeth ask me after a moment.

I turned my head back around and smiled nervously at her. "Yes, of course," I assured and swiftly reached for my own glass. "Why?"

"No reason," she said and began stabbing her spoon into her peach cobbler.  "I was just curious as to why you've been staring at the Head table for the last two minutes."

"I wasn't staring," I assured.

"Then what were you doing?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. Nothing at all."


	9. The Proposal

The Proposal

I stood alone in the empty dorm room. All of the other girls had gone ahead of me. I took my time folding my clothes and packing my suitcase again. For me, the prospect of leaving Hogwarts again wasn't as exciting as it was for everyone else I'd shared a room with. They all had husbands, fiancés or boyfriends to go home to. Me, I had a divorce to finalize and a trial in front of the Ministry of Magic to prepare for.

Lucky me.

I was just on my way out the door when a friendly pair of eyes appeared just before me. I smiled at the Headmaster and set my suitcase down. Before saying anything, Professor Dumbledore held his arms out and gave me a warm, friendly hug.

"I am so happy you were able to join us this weekend, Elizabeth," he said before letting me go. "I do hope you enjoyed yourself."

"Absolutely," I said with a confident nod. "More so than I expected."

"Splendid!" Dumbledore clasped his hands together and sighed. He peered at me through those unique spectacles and smiled. "Now, you remember that I want you to write me if you need anything - anything at all. I'll be more than willing to lend a hand to those who deserve it." His last few words threw a rain cloud over my horizon. He must have known it, too. I saw the frown appear on his face.

"I'm not so sure I deserve any help from anyone," I told him. "I think I deserve exactly what's ahead of me. I've gotten myself into this mess and it's up to me to get out of it, even if that does mean I'll lose my PhD and spend a few years in You-Know-Where."

"Nonsense Elizabeth!" Dumbledore cried. "You were betrayed and tricked by a man who you thought loved you. None of this was your fault. I'll not let anything happen to you." Dumbledore put his hand to my cheek and smiled as he nodded. "I promise."

There wasn't a soul on the planet I trusted more than Albus Dumbledore. Even if it weren't for his supreme powers and his confidence, I still think I'd have found reassurance in his words. He'd helped man witches and wizards out of sticky situations in the past, and if rumour has it – Snape was certainly one of them.

Snape. Now there was a subject I perhaps should not have taken up with Dumbledore. Up in the Hospital Wing after my suicidal attempt with the _Eau Noir_, his words of wisdom left me with a tiny reassurance that my life would shape up for the better – not for the worst. 

'Don't trouble yourself Elizabeth, once you've had a taste of what the future has to offer you, you'll have forgotten all about him and you'll find love again. By the time you're his age now, you'll both understand why I cannot allow you to bid him farewell this evening.'

I think those words have been permanently committed to my memory. Sure, I did fall in love and I did – for the most part - forget about Professor Snape after a few years, but what good has that done me? Daemon was a Death Eater.

He's still a Death Eater. And if Voldemort is ever restored to his power again, I'll not live to see the end of it. He'd make sure of that. Anyone who ever stood up to him ended up dead.

Everyone except that little boy.

Harry Potter.

He must be nearing the age to receive his first Hogwarts letter. It can't be more than a year or two before he discovers who he really is. Perhaps his re-entry to the wizarding world will bring comfort and reassurance to people like me.

Perhaps.

I had just reached my hand out to open the large, oak doors at the head of the castle when I heard an exceptionally cold, icy voice sound behind me.

"Ms. Sullivan."

The way he sounded my name wrought a tiny shiver. He sounded mocking, yet intrigued all at the same time.

Before I turned around, I set my suitcase down and slowly turned my neck to look at him first. He was standing at the bottom of the staircase leaning up against the railing. His arms were crossed in front of him and he wore a particularly twisted, devious smile on his crooked mouth.

I watched him as he made a sudden move forward. He pushed his black robes off of his arms and let them billow out behind him as he neared me. I swallowed hard and felt my palms begin to sweat once he stood near enough for me to smell his subtle aroma of nectar and spice. For a brief moment I closed my eyes as I inhaled the enticing scent.

"I have a proposition for you," he told me.

"Oh? And what's that?" I asked him curiously. My eyebrows instinctively narrowed into a curious squint as I could not imagine what _he_ of all people had in mind for me.

Professor Snape reached into his robes and pulled out a tattered piece of parchment and held it out in front of him for me to look at.

It was a list of potions. More specifically, rare and complex potions I happened to excel in concocting. I let my eyes skim all the way down to the bottom of the list and then met his captivating black eyes with an inquisitive stare once I was finished reading. "Not one for legibility, are you Professor? Did you write this list as you hurried to stop me just now?"

Instead of a reply, I received a sinister trademark glare. His eyes narrowed into tiny slits and I could see his lips curve disapproval. Had I still been a student, my snide comment probably would have earned me a ten-point deduction from my House.

"I'll need these for my seventh year students," he told me as he delicately placed the parchment back into the inner-left pocket of his robes. "For a FIAMA graduate, this should be easy work."

"You want me to brew these for you?" I asked him.

"Well I wasn't going to suggest you appraise my handwriting," he half yelled at me.

"What's in it for me?" I asked him. "You can't expect me to put my whole life on hold to spend the rest of the week concocting these simple potions for you, can you?" Little did he know just how much I dread going back to the life I gladly put on hold to come here in the first place… well… until I remembered all about _him_! I think I gladly would have accepted such an offer, should it have been offered by anyone besides the snide Potions Master.

"You offered to help me now, didn't you, Ms. Sullivan?" Professor Snape distinctly reminded me. "Or would you rather I call you Miss Chamberlain?"

At the mere mention of my maiden name, I could feel my jaw nearly touch the floor.

Professor Snape's dark, empty eyes popped wide open for a split second and then burned fiercely into my own. "That's right Elizabeth, I know who you are. Don't think that in ten years of absence I could have forgotten _you_." It first occurred to me after hearing this particular tone that perhaps he wasn't asking for my help because he could use it, but instead because he desperately needed it and had no other choice. Either way, he didn't sound as if he wanted me to accept his proposal. "A decade certainly hasn't depleted the resemblance you bear to the child I once knew."

For a brief moment I saw his eyes graze disapprovingly up and down my body once again. I can't explain how it happened, but he seemed to warm every part of my body his glimpse touched.

"If it is still your wish to lend me your expertise you can take my offer or leave it."

Again, I swallowed hard as I debated back and forth. As I thought I closed my eyes and imagined which fate was worse. Home? Or here?


	10. Back to the Dungeons

Back to the Dungeons

"Very well," I found myself saying. I raised my eyebrows in a rather refined manner in a grave effort to distract him from noticing the trembling of my hands. "When would you like to start?" I asked him, expecting that he'd need considerable time to prepare a place for me to work.

"Immediately," he said quite seriously.

My suitcase nearly fell out of my grip. "Immediately?" I repeated in disbelief.

"Is there a problem, Miss Chamberlain?" he quizzed. "Or do you prefer to be acknowledged as the supposed wife of the notorious wizard Daemon Sullivan?"

To be completely honest, I don't think I liked the sound of either name slithering off of his tongue. Hearing him speak my maiden name again brought back all of those shameful memories of being hopelessly infatuated with him, and he obviously knew Daemon and all that had made him the notorious Death Eater he is. So I guess what it came down to was… which is the lesser of two evils?

I decided to surrender to the foolishness of marrying a moron rather than resorting back to the name of the girl he once knew as the fool who'd fallen in love with him. "You may as well call me Ms. Sullivan," I told him. "My friends and colleagues call me Liza or Lizzie."

I don't know where that had come from. I hardly expected him to retort to calling me by my nickname. Sure enough, just as I had expected, he'd found some foul, mocking way to spit that back into my face.

He looked at me with a sour expression on his face as he began to lead me down the wide-open corridor. "Well I am neither, Ms. Sullivan," he assured. As I expected such a snide comment as that, it was easy to ignore. "You may leave your belongings here," he added. "One of the house elves will return them to your new room."

"My new room?" I repeated.

The heels of Professor Snape's boots clicked loudly as we began to descend down to the dungeons… the very dungeons I'd hoped I'd never have to see again. "Unless of course you'd prefer to go back to your less-than-adequate bunk bed."

"No," I said immediately. "The mattress was hardly two inches thick. My back feels like it's tied in a knot. I could use a good sleep in a proper bed."

He glanced over at me for a brief second but turned away as soon as I let my eyes meet with his. We'd reached the bottom of the staircase and I could immediately smell the musk and mildew seeping from the walls and ceiling.

Professor Snape led me into his Potions classroom and straight to the back where he'd already prepared an assembly line of ingredients, half brewed potions and an entire apparatus of vials, test tubes, beakers and three pewter cauldrons.

"I've already begun the Appiccicarus," Professor Snape told me as he sat down in front of the largest of the three cauldrons, which looked like a nearly completed batch of Appiccicarus – the strongest adhesive known to wizard-kind. "Here's the list," he said and handed to me the tattered piece of parchment he'd shown me earlier. "I'd appreciate it if you'd get a move on the Deappiccicarus first of all."

I looked at the ingredients again and checked the recipe for the anti-adhesive. Only a dose of Deappiccicarus could separate two objects once they'd both come into contact with Appiccicarus. I recalled that in one incident, an alchemist in Germany had to wait nearly two days for someone to prepare Deappiccicarus after he'd managed to bond his hand to his cauldron.

"Very well," I said and sat down at the station next to him. He was a bit more than an arm's length away from me, but I still felt unnecessarily close to him. It wasn't a big deal, I'd probably be completely preoccupied with the work ahead of me in now time anyway. "Will you be having me test these after I'm done?" I quizzed with a hint of humour in my voice. I remembered as a student that if a potion didn't look quite right, he had us test them ourselves.

Professor Snape never answered me.

After a long while, I began to notice how exceptionally quite the classroom had become. Professor Snape had always been unusually silent, but now that we were alone together I found it a little too quite for my taste. His hands worked gracefully together to grate or dice his ingredients. The care and precision he put into each individual task was actually quite remarkable.

"So," I began before I had really planned what I wanted to say to him. "Are you at all acquainted with the Sullivan family I had the misfortune of becoming a part of?" I'd asked him.

For a short while it didn't appear that he'd heard me. Of course, it was so quiet he'd have heard a mouse scamper from one corner of the classroom to the next. Instead, he'd just belated his answer and kept it to a simple, blasé answer.

"No."

That was all he said.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head as I realized how useless it was to try and strike up a conversation with _him_. He probably hated conversation as much as he hated the prospect of wearing shorts in the heat of summer. Nevertheless, the quite was almost too much for me to handle.

"Daemon was a Durmstrang student," I continued. "He graduated four years before I did. We met during my first year at FIAMA. It was at a Halloween ball and he'd blown up several pumpkins while trying to charm them into igniting orange flames each time someone walked by. I happened to be the lucky one walking by when it all happened."

Professor Snape didn't exactly acknowledge that I was speaking to him. He just went on with his work and didn't even look up at me. I didn't really expect him to, but obviously my conversation didn't appear to disturb him. If he wanted to he wouldn't have hesitated to ask me to be silent. Since he didn't, I took it upon myself to carry on the one-way conversation.

"Charms wasn't really my specialty," I continued. "My cousin had a knack for Charms, and Transfigurations. You know, she once misplaced her butterfly wings when she was making a love potion for her boyfriend as a Valentine's Day gift and used a dead housefly she found on the floor to transfigure into a butterfly. A few weeks later after she'd given the potion to her boyfriend he'd begun to attract the attention of nearly every butterfly he'd come in contact with. Silly, huh?"

"Hilarious," he answered, mockingly.

At that distasteful remark, I slapped my knife back down to the counter and looked angrily at him. "All right, I get the point. You're in no mood for conversation."

He looked into my eyes for a moment and then glanced down at the handle of the knife still wrapped in my hand. "I'm trying to concentrate," he told me.

"And you can't do that and talk at the same time?" I challenged him. "Some _master_ you are."

"Ms. Sullivan, if you'd have been a bit more attentive to your work rather than trying to talk my ear off, you may have noticed that you've nearly sliced your finger off!" He pointed his eyes down to my hands again.

I hadn't even felt it, but when I put the knife down – rather hastily – I must have brought the blade down right on my finger. I looked in awe at the incision and then rushed to press my thumb over the bleeding cut.

He stood up from his seat and came over to me with his wand in hand. I could feel his robes brush up against my back as he leaned over me and picked my bleeding hand up into his own. He muttered a spell under his breath and waved his wand over my hand. A moment later the cut disappeared and he pulled a handkerchief from his robes and began dotting away the remaining blood. His hands pressed gently into my skin as he cleansed my hand. I watched him carefully, noting how delicately he moved.

His hands were warm and a lot softer than I ever would have expected. Except for the evening of my graduation, in all the years that I had known him, he'd never touched a finger to me.

He never wanted to.

If the same thing had happened to me back when I was a student, I'm sure he would have scolded me and sent me up to Madam Pomfrey. But now, as I looked up at him, he didn't look in any way prepared to start yelling at me for my carelessness.

I couldn't really describe _how_ he looked.

*            *            *

Okay, so you're probably all wondering when this is all going to come together. Do some of her old feelings still remain? Does he still resent her? Will the rating pick up a notch? … All in the chapter ahead!


	11. The Decision

The Decision

            It only took me a moment to realize that my heart had jumped up into my throat when he released my hand. I tried to utter a grateful 'thank you', but the engorged lump in my throat wouldn't let my voice sound through. Instead I watched Professor Snape place my hand back down on the counter and step back a little ways.

He was still right there behind me. I could still feel his warm breath blowing softly against the back of my neck. "You'd better start breathing soon," he whispered callously into my ear. "Who knows what I might be tempted to do to you should you pass out in my arms… again," he added a moment later. His voice turned to ice and penetrated right through to my bones. Then I could feel my entire body tingle as a cold shiver spurt down my spine.

Oh Merlin! That wasn't just a shiver. That was his hand!

My eyes fluttered open and closed as I retraced the feeling of his strong fingers pressing down the middle of my back and then lifting off just above my coccyx. "What did you do the last time?" I found myself asking him.

There was no question about it. He had me under his spell. Even I could hear the terror rattling around in my voice box like a lab rat in a cage. Professor Snape had asked me to help him with some extremely rare potions, but I was beginning to wonder if he intended for me to feel just like a little white mouse awaiting some sort of mad experimentation.

"The last time," he began, "you'd taken enough _Eau Noir_ to bring you to the edge of death." He stepped around me and leaned himself up against the counter and crossed his arms in front of him. I could see his chest rise as he drew in a deep breath and slowly let it exhale as his eyebrows arched in anger and his black eyes stared fiercely down into mine.

I squeezed my hands around the seat of my chair and held on tight as his eyes glared down at me in a bitter scowl. My entire body seemed to flood with spells of heat, and then just a quickly, turned cold again. I felt almost nauseous and was sure I'd be sick if I made any attempt to move.

"You'd put me in an awkward position, Ms Sullivan," he continued, speaking in a very low, but very clear whisper. "Being a professor, I had no choice but to rush you back to the castle to administer the proper antidote. You're _very_ lucky we'd had so many on hand. I'd not have had enough time to prepare another one."

"Perhaps I wasn't as lucky as you think," I told him.

For a short moment his eyes seemed to soften a touch. He narrowed his eyelids and looked curiously at me. "Would you have preferred to die out there had I not come along?" He sounded just as disdainful as the look on his face. "Were you really _that_ unhappy?" Suddenly I felt like I was right back where I was ten years ago, feeling childish and under his authority. Well, I wasn't going to stand for that. I'm an adult now and as much as he may think he does – he's got no power over me.

"You had no right to interfere," I assured him in a tone of voice as malevolent as his own. Refusing to be intimidated any longer, I glared up at him and ease my grip around the chair.

Professor Snape must have seen the challenge in my eyes. "You're still just as unhappy, aren't you?" He seemed to let down his guard and regard me as I intended to be regarded. "In the last ten years have you not found an alternate route of escape?" Keeping his arms held firmly across his chest, his empty black eyes boring into me suspiciously.

"I – I don't know what you mean, Professor."

Professor Snape slowly began shaking his head at my ignorance. He released his arms and tucked his hands round the edge of the counter on either side of him. "On that night, I believe you said to me _'This is the only way I'll ever escape you.'_"

He slowly pushed himself away from the counter and began to circle around behind me. I didn't dare turn my head back to look at him. I sat still, my hands still clamped firmly to the seat and my heart pounding fiercely within my chest.

A moment later his heavy, black cloak dipped down around either side of me and I could feel him softly breathing against the nape of my neck again. If he'd have been looking, I'm sure he would have seen the goosebumps poking upward all along my neck. "For the life of me, I'll never understand what it is I did that made you want to feel my touch." His soft, warm fingers began to graze gently across my neck, trailing the path of goosebumps his breath had erected a moment ago. "I'm hardly what the female race would call pleasing, attractive, or even sexually appealing."

His silky whispers were brushing so closely against my ear I could feel the warmth of his lips touch my earlobe. My entire body shivered and shook against his words.

"I was never kind to you. I never gave you the satisfaction of hearing me congratulate you for your outstanding work even though you excelled marvellously in my class. I had no doubts that you would do exceptionally well once you left Hogwarts, and so you have."

His fingers ran continuously back and forth along the collar of my shirt and then, to my utter shock, he stood directly behind me and began soothingly pressing his fingers into my shoulders, massaging the ferocious tension away.

"So tell me Ms. Sullivan," he began as he continued to massage my aching shoulders. "How long did it take you to realize how foolish it was of you to try and throw your life away in order to settle those silly little feelings you had for me?"

I let my eyes flutter closed as his hands came down in front of me and began to rub along my collarbone. "I don't believe they were as silly as you make it sound, Professor," I murmured. "I remember feeling quite certain that my regards for you were serious. I thought I – I… loved… you."

Professor Snape pressed his hands against my breastbone and pulled me closer to him. I could feel my back pressed right up against the front of him, the buttons of his suit pressing into me. "Do you still feel that way, Ms. Sullivan?" he asked me in what sounded more like a threat than a question.

I began shaking my head. Some of my hair had gotten caught in his multiple buttons. "No," I assured, although I'm sure my shallow whisper didn't sound as reassuring as I'd meant it to sound.

"Good," I heard him say just before he bent down to press his lips to my right ear again. "There are two types of witches I will not tolerate to have in my bed," he told me just before he pressed his hands down my bare arms.

I swallowed hard and listened to the shattered rhythm of my own breathing as his right hand slithered across my bosom and reached up to tip the tiny strap of my tank top over my shoulder. "One – as you very well know – is a foolish, self-indulgent student."

His left hand came up from my shoulder and combed my hair up, exposing the flesh of my neck and shoulder. Professor Snape moved his lips to where he'd exposed my skin and fervently began to graze his tongue along the nape of my neck and then over to my shoulder leaving a fresh trail of saliva behind. He lifted his head away from my shoulder and blew softly against the cold, wet moisture coating my skin.

I closed my eyes as my entire body shuttered at the intense feeling and – much to my disapproval - a supple moan escaped my lips. I could hear Professor Snape chuckling softly behind me as my body surrendered to his undesired, yet completely entrancing caressing.

"The second," he went on, still ardently nibbling down along my neck and shoulder, "is the lovesick, obsessive witch you – thankfully - did not become."

He squeezed his arms around me for a brief moment. I could feel him dragging his chin across my head from one side to the other. Once he had his lips pursed against my right ear again I could hear a low, eager rumble coming from his throat. A moment later his mouth opened and a soft, purr-like growl emitted from the back of his throat.

Professor Snape began to rock my body from side to side along with his. His hands slithered from around my shoulders to across my breasts again. He cupped his palm around me and squeezed tenderly.

I closed my eyes and exhaled deeply when his hand enclosed my breast. "Why are you doing this?" I managed to whisper.

"Because Elizabeth," he lulled into my ear, "it's what you've always wanted," he answered. "You're no longer my student. You've become a woman, Elizabeth." His hand was still grasped firmly around my breast as he continued to murmur into my ear. He moved his fingers around in gentle circles and brought his thumb down to rub against the material of my shirt where the stimulation was most prominent. "If it is still your wish to feel my hands upon your body – you're perfectly delightful and extremely desirable body – speak now. Or, if you ask me to stop, I'll do so and you'll never have to see me again. Make up your mind. Now."


	12. Ending No 1

Ending No. 1

The way his hands slithered about my body made me twitch uncomfortably. This isn't the way seduction is supposed to feel. Although a part of me wanted him indefinitely, there was only one right answer to his question.

I couldn't let him seduce me like this. There was warning in his cold, malevolent voice. If I let him continue this savage molestation any longer there would be a price to pay – a price I was quite unwilling to sacrifice.

"Take your hands off of me now," I ordered.

I heard a disappointment in his groan, but nonetheless, Professor Snape slowly drew his hands back and stepped away. As soon as I could, I stood up and pulled each of my straps back up my shoulders.

His dark, menacing form loomed over me when I looked up at him. He looked angry, but no more than any other day.

"I'm sorry," I told him.

"Don't apologize," he warned. "Just leave."

*          *          *

Hello readers! If this is the ending you were crossing your fingers for, then it's your lucky day. This is the end of The Last Potion.

If you are disappointed in the decision Elizabeth made, then I've got good news for you, too! For an alternate ending you're going to have to wait just a little bit longer. And because fanfiction.net does not support NC-17 ratings, you're going to have to continue reading The Last Potion at adultfanfiction.net

Here's the link: Go to the adultfanfiction . net site. Then look up RickyRoo in Author Directory, and The Last Potion is the only fic I've got there.

I'll try to have it up soon!


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